Mr. Perfect - The Set Up

December 30th, 2009

I think the best way to explain my instant crush on Mr. Perfect is to show you the email I sent him (the first communication between the two of us). Oh, and I am aware of how this would scare most people away, but throwing it all out there has sort of been my "thing." I AM rethinking my strategy.

"Hello!

I have to say that it was a pleasure reading through your profile (although I'm sure you hear that often, and if you don't, you should).

Things I really like about you (from what I read):

-You like karaoke (have you ever been to Sardo's in Burbank? Or Max's downtown? I sing a mean Otis Redding cover)

-You're a photographer! (while I am certainly nowhere near being a pro, I love taking photos :)

-You like quirky and cuddly girls! (I'm pretty sure I'm both of those)

-You enjoy Old Hollywood movies/actors (you don't know how much I enjoyed seeing that you like movies where smoking/drinking/slapping were socially acceptable...ah, the good ol' days)

Well, there were many other points you made which caught my eye, but I won't bore you with those now. Just thought I would say "hi."

Hope to talk to you soon,

Babe in the Woods"

His response should have clued me in to his lack of imagination/interest, but I like to ignore warning signs:

"Hi,

Thanks for the kudos. I like you're old school style and the fact that you don't list your phone as one of the things you couldn't live without. You seem like a girl with good manners too. I didn't think those existed anymore. I guess that's why you say you think you were born in the wrong decade.

So, I'm back in Indiana for the holidays and just home from seeing Up In The Air. It was really good. George Clooney actually conveyed some real emotion as opposed to just trying to be Cary Grant.

Where are you spending your holidays?

Cheers,

Mr. Perfect"

Can I just stop and say that when a girl sends you an email on a dating site, it means that she wants you to ask her out. Plain and simple. Just do it! It may be the fact that I've been on so many dates and am just impatient by nature, but I really don't have time for this 10 email correspondence before meeting in the flesh. I mean, I probably do have time, but I would rather spend it taking a nap or eating pancakes.

I wait for Mr. Perfect to return from his holiday trip and re-read his profile like a psycho. Hmm.

Mr. Reserved: Comes Back for More

December 30th, 2009

Imagine my surprise when Mr. Reserved agrees to go out again. I figured the level of intoxication from the previous date would put the idea of a rematch completely out of his head. And then he says, "Well, we should at least go out again so I can pay you back." Um...why don't you just write me a check instead? Seriously? But, I'm bored and ridiculously hopeful, so I drive to his house.

I realize now why second dates are important: Excitement and self-absorption which are naturally present during Date #1 prevent one from noticing how BIZARRE the other person is. Adrenaline fades a bit by Date #2 and the calm allows for weirdness to surface. Turns out Mr. Reserved is weird.

You know how some people make you feel insecure and unattractive simply by standing next to you? That's what Mr. Reserved did to me. Not that he was overly handsome or charming. Not at all! He had that odd Clark Gable thing going for him, but would not be considered good looking in a classic sense. His presence just made me feel like I buttoned my sweater one button off. So, we walked in the most awkward silence to a neighborhood Japanese restaurant until, finally, a crazy woman began following us and speaking angry Russian out into the darkness. Bad sign?

We arrive at this restaurant and I neglect to tell him that I hate Japanese food. I figure it's a form of politeness. I become EXTREMELY exhausted listening to his life story and I realize it is because the story is actually pretty boring and became nauseatingly so when coupled with his ridiculously slow cadence. He then decides to poke fun at the fact that I cannot for the life of me use chopsticks to eat soup. Oh, I'm sorry, I must be a moron for not being able to bring liquid to my mouth with two sticks. I sort of hate him now.

Dinner is less than amazing, but my competitive curse leads me to attempt to flirt. Why the heck isn't he falling head over heels for me? His completely emotionless demeanor is intensely annoying! We pass by his apartment so he can pick something up and makes me wait outside. What does he think? I'm going to take advantage of him? Since when did I become some ravager of men? SO DUMB.

We then walk to Pinkberry (I think he is afraid of being in a car with me) and he buys me frozen yogurt, the highlight of my night. I feel a little bad for him when he tells me the story about his fiance deciding to never speak to him again. Then I wonder if it was because he totally creeped her out too. The date is finally over and he walks me to my car. I'm confused because I sort of want him to try to kiss me, but then I'm also grossed out by the thought of it. Confusion then just leads to anger because he gives me a robot hug and sends me on my way. I think I would have felt much better if he attempted the kiss so I could reject it.

Date #12: Failure.

Mr. Reserved

December 26th, 2009

This guy happened to be one that intrigued me and I email-pursued. Turns out we went to the same college at the same time, although I couldn't say I ever saw him before in my life. His profile name was somewhat offensive, but I guess that's never stopped me before. Perhaps it even made me like him more? I know, I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me too. Anyway, plans were made for a date at the same watering hole that I met Mr. Gentleman and Mr. Got No Game (I'm seriously going to have to move soon).

He seemed to take himself pretty seriously on his profile which is usually a bad sign. However, a couple of days of flirting via text prior to the big meet amped up my nerves for sure (I've been watching Valley Girl over and over) and I decided he was extremely witty, very funny, and at least somewhat of a talented entertainment industry so-and-so.

First Impression: Whatever. Wait, something was interesting about his face. It looked a little swollen, but his ears stuck out in a charming way - very Clark Gable. In fact, he looked very much like a young Clark Gable! Okay, now I was interested. Tall, dark hair, slow moving.

You would think by now I would have learned my lesson about first dates + alcohol + nerves. Nope, not a wit. I dressed up adorably (as is my custom) and ordered my gin and tonic while he got whiskey. Okay, side note: Is it just me or is whiskey the new black? Is it trendy with hipsters or something? Why does practically every guy I go out with order this? Whatever. He keeps mentioning how he never really drinks which, frankly, just makes me uncomfortable. Conversation is going well and he moved his face into expressions with a slow, movie star way. I become more entranced as my glass empties.

We order another round. I tell him how I just moved out of a house where a big-name porn star now lives (not sure why I said this, oh, right, gin). I mention the name and his face lights up. He knows the girl. Not in real life, of course. Through her films. I ignore this unpleasantry and twirl my hair. I decide I'll let him kiss me. Then things take a turn for the worst (don't they always?). I become drunk. I mean, plastered. Two drinks. TWO DRINKS!!! I take this as a lesson which will now result in me stuffing a loaf of bread in my vintage purse before any outing. While I am very intoxicated, I am not unaware of the extreme embarrassment that this causes. He is ready to leave and for some reason I pay the $30 tab (huh?!). I tell him I need to hang out since I can't drive yet. We wait through 5 glasses of water and still the room is spinning. He finally offers to drive me home, but we have to move my car first (humiliation, you are my sister). He drops me off and does NOT kiss me. I was upset about this, but I wouldn't kiss me with that much alcohol mixed in the situation. I wake up super early to make the two mile trek to find my car. Yeah...

Date #11: Embarrassing for everyone.